


Santa Senara and the Sea

by ive_got_you_clovered



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Absent Parents, Abusive Parents, Alcoholism, Background Relationships, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gen, High School, Humanstuck, MerMay, Mermaids, Merstuck, Mutual Pining, Original Characters - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, There's not going to be a lot but it's there/mentions of it., You Can Deal With It - Freeform, small town drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ive_got_you_clovered/pseuds/ive_got_you_clovered
Summary: There were creatures in the waters of Santa Senara. The locals whispered it to each other over the garden fence. All agreed: There were creatures in the waters of Santa Senara, and they more or less kept to themselves.Until, as a newcomer discovers, they didn't.
Relationships: Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Kudos: 11





	1. Beginnings

There were creatures in the waters of Santa Senara. The locals whispered it to each other over the garden fence, as neighbors are wont to do, but the tales told to children varied as to what the creatures _were_. Some cuddled small, excited ones close and told them tales of glittering mermaids, swimming through the salt and collecting coins thrown into the ocean for their shine. Sometimes fathers enchanted teenagers over the kitchen table at night with tales of ships dragged to their death by glowing monsters and the vengeful ghosts of drowned sailors, who wanted companions in their watery deaths. But all agreed: There were creatures in the waters of Santa Senara, and they more or less kept to themselves.

Your name is ROSE LALONDE, and you’ve never much liked long car rides. This is mostly because it would mean you’d be trapped in a confined space with your mother, who would no doubt attempt to start a conversation and make some biting remark about your shoes, or your weight, or your distinct lack of friends—

But you digress. Long car rides are rather hellish. It does not help this one that you are currently undergoing involves TWO VERY AWKWARD STRIDERS and ROXY, who is attempting to make Dirk less viscerally uncomfortable. They are failing. You appreciate the effort nonetheless, even if it leaves you stuck with Dave. You don’t think he’s stopped talking since your mother confiscated his headphones.

“—so basically it’s hella cool that the people on tumblr think my garbage is worth investing time into like it’s the principle of the thing you find some Grade-A, quality garbage and start following it to make sure it doesn’t turn into something non-garbage because putting effort into something unironically is the opposite of cool, if cool was a—”

You sigh a long-suffering sigh of SISTERLY LOVE and slap a hand over his mouth. He, being an annoying and predictable brother, licks it. You don’t budge. You intend on stealing back those headphones post-haste. Plans mentally set, you raise a single eyebrow at him and say, “Dave. I do believe you put quite a bit of effort into that ‘garbage’, because I distinctly remember yesterday you spent a significant amount of time re-drawing a sleeve on—”

He yelps and covers your mouth right back, which you didn’t expect. There is a moment where you’re both staring at the other in a battle of sibling superiority before he removes his hand and wipes your lipstick off onto your shirt. That’s enough of a victory for you.

“Would appreciate if y’all’d not tear each other apart in the backseat until we get home, alright darlin’s,” Your mother remarks from the front seat, setting you tensed for a following remark. There is no relief when it doesn’t come, for you or Dave. “There’s enough space to avoid each other.”

“This is not a particularly large minivan, mother.”

“Yeah, Ms. Momlonde, it’s—”

You can feel her roll her eyes. It makes you want to remove them and feed them to the cows lining the empty fields nearby. “Call me mom, Dave.”

“Right, right, tha— yeah, that’s— I think we could’ve all fit in the moving van.”

Roxy and your mother sigh in unison, and it still rocks you every day how much they sound alike. Roxy makes you jump sometimes in their moments of vocal clarity (and you’re not discussing that with whatever therapist she finds you in this new place). Dirk mumbles something about ‘illegal’ and ‘company liability’ before returning to a tense silence. Dave looks at you, and you look at him, mirrored stances of flight or fight. You’re far too alike. It makes you antsy.

You spend the rest of the ride in forgettable rambling as your mother drives you away from your life and toward her new one.

Your name is KANAYA MARYAM and your good friend KARKAT is being an ANNOYING LITTLE SHIT. You told him as much before you started today’s tasks, and he swatted you in the face with his tail. If you didn’t like him so much you might’ve eaten him.

It’s not like you couldn’t. He’s far too tropical for the cold area you live in, while the rest (like you) are armored and padded and prepared for the chill. It’s a miracle he’s survived past his first hatching. He’s reluctantly following you only because you promised to dry and save any walker books the two of you can scavenge off of the rocks and beach.

“Kanaya, this is a fucking waste. You know all we get is their garbage and the occasional piece of silverware from some really posh picnickers.”

“Karkat would you kindly shut the fuck up. I am looking for buttons to finish off that hat for Napata and if you would help instead of whining it would be greatly appreciated.” You snap back, and he rolls his eyes. Before you can flick him a shiny tidbit catches your eye and you swoop down to nab it from the sharp pool floor.

There’s not much sunlight in this part of the cove, but it doesn’t bother you. You’re a creature of the depths and the song- as much as you adore the things the world above can offer ( _like fabric_ , your mind whispers, _and threads and a needle it feels like your hands were born to wield_ ) you’ve always been more comfortable with the depth. You don’t belong below the shelf like some, but you’re home here.

You turn around the offer the silver coin to Karkat, and find your sight empty. Sighing, you continue along the shoreline.

The ocean feels a little emptier without someone at your side. It always feels a little empty.

The house your mother purchased is not at all up the standards of the one you grew up in. You suppose if you were a more sentimental person you’d appreciate the worn paint or the old-growth trees or the solitude, but all you can focus on is the fact that one of the walls appears to have mushrooms on it and you can smell whatever died in the yard from the car as you approach. Dave and Dirk appear to share the sentiment. They’re from the city, so it makes sense. Roxy, on the other hand, is ecstatic. They leap out of the car before it’s completely stopped and run through the lawn like a person on fire.

“We’re home we’re home we’re HOME Rosie-posie look at this! It’s sooooooo pretty and look at the fancy schmancy door and you can smell the ocean from here and _ooh_ —” They holler before flopping down on the grass. You cringe at the ticks they’ve no doubt gained and carefully make your way out of the car.

Well, at least Roxy’s happy. Dirk seems relieved to be out of the car, and Dave is distracted by some bird. They’re happy, so for now, you can pretend to be for the sake of your mother. Said mother is currently starting the process of getting your suitcases out of the trunk. You and Dirk silently start helping at the same time, and you wander up to explore the porch as she starts to fumble with the keys. You recognize the withdrawl tremor and don’t mention it.

Dave follow you and pokes at the white paint peeling off of the windowsill. “Y’know, I can at least say this place seems way better than Houston. There’s less traffic and more green things and also the biodiversity here is- I mean. Well.”

“Cool people can appreciate the native biodiversity, Dave, please continue,” You comment with a little grin. His pale eyebrows raise over his shades in a look you interpret as skeptical.

“It’s cool as hell, but sometimes I feel like every conversation with you is going to end up in some bullshit psychoanalysis about how I want to fuck plants or daddy issues or something nonsensical like that can’t a dude just appreciate the ecosystem of a new environment without being a total dweeb about it?”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

Roxy hugs him from behind and you see him move to counter before he processes it’s her. You have to share a room with him here. That might be an issue. “I think it’s cutie-patootie you care about plants and animals and stuff, Davey!”

“Oh hell no I don’t _care_ everything about it is ironic I do it to make people _think_ I’m some bird-loving tree-hugging nerd and then I pull the rug out from under them like Aladdin so fast they’ll be left dropping into the lava like the dude should _not_ have survived that scene but I digress—”

You wander away from the incoming tirade and instead enter the now-unlocked house. Your knuckles are pale against your suitcase handle.

It’s nothing like your home. The walls are a deep red and plaster, clipping at the corners and near the faded wood trim. The floor creaks even under delicate steps. You can see indents where heavy furniture sat and left their legacy under the floorboards. Still… it looks like someone’s home. This place looks loved, and feels loved, and it puts you at ease a bit. You intend to explore the magical energy of this place.

“What do you think, Rose? Will it be enough?” You hear your mother ask behind you. The question is a trap. You will never be enough for her as you are.

“This will be wonderful for your work, mother.”

“I meant for you, darling, I wouldn’t have wanted to uproot all of your connections if the place we’re living isn’t fit for you.”

“Mom. Please, stop,” Roxy pleads quietly, and it takes you a moment to process it’s not your mother. It makes you ache, that this person you love so much could be so much like someone who despises the very ground you walk on.

“I don’t know what you mean, Roxy darling, I was just asking Rose a question. Wasn’t I, Rosey-posey?” The nickname is poison-sweet on her tongue, and you simply nod in response. Roxy fixes her and you with a look before taking her suitcase and heading upstairs. You follow. Your mother doesn’t say anything else, and you’re grateful.

Observations you took about your room as you enter it:

  * It’s pale lilac-pink, and the ceiling is dark blue. It would look lovely with the addition of some glow-in-the-dark stars.
  * Your bed and a bed you presumed would be Dave’s are not there, because they’ve been replaced by a clean-looking bunk bed and some long mattresses.
  * The view is far too bright. You’ll need curtains.
  * Someone loved this home.



It’s obvious, it’s been obvious since you arrived. No matter how bitter you try to be the house will not be at fault, because the magical energy is not one of sorrow and bitterness like your (old) home. That was your aura; that was your magic shielding you with loathing. But someone here loved and was loved once. Your magic settled like shards of glass and littered the floors. Theirs seeps into the floorboards and window panes and fills you with hope. Hope is powerful and true magic. It shields you and lifts you and more importantly, won’t be tainted by your mother.

The light coils into your bones. Your name is ROSE LALONDE, and you think this might not be as bad as you initially thought.


	2. Rose and Some New Acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't write for the life of me and don't edit, so have this clusterfuck.

“Hey, Rose, do you ever think you’re slowly dying?” 

You offer your twin a cursory glance from your spot nearby. Dirk’s hanging upside down from the rock crag the two of you found a short walk through the woods.

“What brings on the question?”

“Didn’t answer mine.”

You take a moment to locate your bookmark and close the book before commenting, “No. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like I was slowly dying.”

Dirk’s hair is wet by the incoming spray and he hisses at it. You laugh and offer a hand, which he takes, to pull himself back to sitting. “I feel as if every moment we spend doing nothing in the middle of nowhere is a moment spent killing my soul a little. I am not a person meant to do nothing, Rose, I need to have my fingers in a thousand things at once otherwise I am going to start going _bonkers._ ”

“You could go make friends.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose and you suppress a snicker. You both understand he’s a mess of a person in that regard. Not that it’s his fault— you met ‘Bro’ a total of once and he made your skin _crawl_.

“Right. Just going to go… knock on doors, hand out pamphlets saying ‘I promise I’m not as weird as I seem’ and ‘I swear I’m not a vampire, just pale’ and ‘Yes, I know Japanese, no, I’m not a weeb’.”

“All very important points to cover. You could make posters with those little tear off tabs with your snapchat so all of the friendship-eligible teens and My Little Pony middle schoolers could court you at their convenience.”

“That actually doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”

You throw a rock at him and he catches it without looking up. “Dirk, the reason I suggested it is because it’s such a completely bad idea that it’d make you the school pariah in July.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m heading home. Feel free to join me if you want,” He mumbles, getting up. You follow silently.

It’s been a few weeks since you moved in. Your mother hasn’t been around since the first week, and you’ve liked it more than you’d admit. As you and Dirk arrive the backyard comes into view. You can see Roxy and Dave elbow-deep in the beginnings of a garden, and Roxy raises a hand to wave enthusiastically at you. Dave looks less enthusiastic. It prompts a laugh from you and smug smile from Dirk.

“Can it, Rose, Rox and I are doing some serious life-giving hard work over here we walked into town and bought shit and _everything_ so put away your snarky expression and go put the thyme in a pot so you can use it to cleanse the house with a hoodoo voodoo magic ritual and set us all on fire or something spooky like that,” Dave retorts, tossing a small box with the herb in it at you. It seems you’ve been delegated the task, but you can’t bring it in yourself to mind. As they continue you gather up all of the herbs your siblings bought and their designated pots, and… they’re missing something.

“Dirk dear, would you mind checking the garage for paint? Preferably colorful, there might be some left behind from the previous owners,” You ask. He shrugs and vanishes into the house. You bring to mind the dark purple walls from Roxy and Dirk’s bedroom and smile at the possibility.

“Ooh, trying something fancy, Rosie-posie?” Roxy asks innocently, digging a hole for some summer flowers.

“I just think it would brighten up the pots, that’s all. Having a nice-looking environment is important in maintaining a positive magical signature.”

Dave mumbles something under his breath about the Sims and then says, “What does that even mean, anyway? I’ve never seen you do any _actual_ magic, just hobbldeygook and wand-waving and-“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” You interrupt, pointing a stick at him like a judge with a gavel, “before you say deeply offensive to wizard-kind.”

Dirk peeks his head out the garage. “Wouldn’t you be a witch?”

“No no Di-Stri, she’s a learny magic person and not a healy plant-type and that’s why she’s a wizard, right Rosie-posie?” Roxy interjects, and you offer them a grin.

“Yes, exactly. Also, Dave, since we’re all _quite_ related, you ought to have some sort of magical sense as well. It would benefit you to learn why and how the magic of an area affects you the way it does.”

He grumbles and throws a pebble at you before muttering, “Fine, let’s listen to the wizard do some wizard mumbo-jumbo and completely fucking eviscerate us with her knowledge of world-destroying dangers and also surprise you’ve got dragons living in the woods because _those_ are real too, sounds fucking reasonable—”

“Are you done bitching, or shall I give you another moment?”

“You should know by now that I am eternally bitching machine and that I’m going to bitch until my heart gives up from all the bitterness and crawls out of my body to bitchslap me and I’ll die because I don’t have a heart and it’ll live the rest of it’s hearty life crawling around and visiting the world, it’ll see Venice and the World’s Largest Bowling Ball and all its heart’s desires that I never bothered doing because I sunburn too much to do anything productive outside and—”

The remaining three of your slapdash siblinghood share glances and a quiet sigh as he goes on with this for a while. It’s actually rather entertaining. You’re finding a source of interest in the way he gestures about while arranging the peonies, and the way his tirade gets needle-based for a bit when he’s dealing with a particularly annoying patch of thistles.

You wonder where he got those gardening gloves- maybe the garage too. Speaking of it, Dirk has finally returned and brought with him a beautiful dark green paint and some brushes.

“—and. But anyway lemme tell you it is fucking _something_ so anyway… right. I’m done bitching. Magic up, or something, goth-ass loser.”

_Finally._ You pause momentarily in your flowerpot painting to think about how best to start this explanation. “Hm… Dave. Have you felt that this home has been loved?”

“Well, yeah, that’s obvious.”

You raise an eyebrow at him until he realizes what he just said. “I— well, I mean, you know, it’s just— it _feels_ loved, doesn’t it? I… fuck, that’s magic, isn’t it?”

Roxy gives you a satisfied look. They’ve always been more receptive to the stuff in the cracks, so you assume their twin would be as well. It’s nice to get confirmation. “Yes, Dave, that’s magic. Now, think about my home, or—” You debate mentioning his apartment back in Houston, but decide against it. “That did not feel loved, did it?”

“Nah, it felt like there was a really spiteful thing living in the walls.”

“Close enough- that was my magic. And since I was full of bitterness and hatred for that place it settled and made that place bitter and hated. That was good for weapons, but not as good for healing or saving spells.”

“That checks— pass the shovel, will you Rox…” Dave says, starting to dig another hole. “So whoever lived here was just having the time of their life in the middle of nowhere so this place is good for happy mumbo-jumbo, huh?”

“I imagine they might have been a witch of some sort- no, Dirk, stop giving me that look. Yes, I mean witch. These garden plots obviously had _something_ in them. Anyway, that’s why a good environment is important to a good magical environment, since _someone_ says I’m not allowed to do weapon-based magic anymore,” You finish, giving Roxy the stink-eye. They flick Dirk, who in turn flicks you. Dave just nods solemnly before Roxy scoots over to pinch his cheek.

“Sounds reasonab _hey, Roxy!”_

“Sorry Davey-wavey, you gotta be involved in the Strider-londe face attack!”

He rolls up his sleeves and tackles them, hollering, “I’ll show you a face attack!”

You watch them roll around. Roxy’s giggling like the world is about to end, and you can’t remember the last time you saw Dave _smile_. At least, genuinely like that. It hurts you that you and Dirk are too broken to be that happy. For now, all you do is watch Dave chase Roxy around and listen to the budding garden fill with shrieky laughter. 

“… hey, Ro-Lal. Do you want to head out to town tommorrow and see if we can meet people?” Dirk asks quietly, and you just nod before heading inside.

There’s not much overhead lighting, so your and Dave’s room has a total of four lamps and two sets of fairy lights. He calls them Christmas lights and refuses to refer to them as anything else. Otherwise, you’re quite illogically proud of the setup. Dave’s dead things and scavenged items fit well into your cluttered goth memorabilia, although you’re beginning to suspect it’ll never look clean with all of the _stuff_. Eh, it could be worse. You flop down on the bottom bunk and stare up at the slats above.

You’re not lonely here so long as you have your siblings, but finding yourself without them leaves you rather fucking blank. There’s no opportunity here- you’re not going to find other magic users, and probably won’t find anyone even as receptive to it as you all are. You’re even _further_ away from John, and Jade, and everyone.

Welp. You were made for grandeur, so you’re just going to have to find it in the cracks of this dingey little town.

After dinner you find yourself drawn to the seaside. The waves are gentle on the rocks and the wind is blowing in from the ocean, whipping your hair away from your face. It’s… really nice, actually. You like it out here. You’d be content to stay here forever if a glimmer of something in the spray below didn’t capture your attention.

If it was just a shiny piece of garbage, it wouldn’t _shine_ like that. It keeps glowing like a lantern, before deliberately disappearing into a crevice far below you. If you took fifteen minutes to carefully climb down, you’d probably be able to retrieve it.

You spare a glance back at the forest, and through it your house. Your mother will be home soon- she’ll get a drink, wander upstairs, and either work or pass out. She doesn’t spare you a glance unless you get in her way. Will she notice you coming in at ten instead of nine? Will she notice if you never come back and die a watery death?

Roxy will. Your brothers will notice if you don’t come back.

You take a deep breath and start climbing down the cliffside.

The concept of impermanence is a tricky one. You try not to think about it, and the slope is steep and slippery enough that it requires your concentration to traverse. As you’re going down you notice a few deliberately-beaten holes forming a path near the cliffs by the outlook at the end of your road— curious. You make a mental note to investigate it later.

There are voices. You pause a moment as they bubble and ring out from a… cave?

“Sollux, you’re such a buzzkill!!! Also, you said you’d bring honey this time and you didn’t which is absobubblutely unacceptable!”

“Yes, Sollux, quite rude of you to—“ Retorts a British-sounding and amused voice, but he’s interrupted by someone raspy and quite annoyed.

“Both of you are the motht inthufferable pieceth of th-thit to walk the face of thith planet and I’d kick your athh h if you weren’t freakithly tall or a fithh.”

“Awww, c’mon, you big dummy. I’m just playing! I even kelped you out- buzzkill? Like bees? Get it?”

There’s a peal of laughter, and all three in the cave join in. You feel like you’re intruding on something personal. It’s happening of friends you’re unfamiliar with, but you need to pass the cave to get to the scenic outlook way back up the cliff. And also… you’re still curious about the light. Your feet are unsteady but your mind is firm as you peek into the cave.

A tall boy and a short boy yelp a little, the taller one scrambling back against the cave wall and the shorter one slipping off of his rock into a shallow pool. He’s caught by a mermaid, which is not what you were expecting. There’s a lot of yelling. All you can do is offer an awkward wave and try not to laugh at the scene. “Hello, all. Apologies if I startled you?”

“What the FUCK—”

The mermaid tuts and picks the smaller boy up with ease, setting him back up on his rock and turning to grin at you. The light was apparently her eyes, which shine out at you as a brilliant pink that matches her armored tail and torso. You wonder how she manages her hair. You kind of want to ask.

“That’s not very nice, Sollux! Hi!!! I’m Feferi and this is Sollux but he’s kind of a sourpuss and this is Ugulam! Where did you come from?”

The taller boy, who is apparently named Ugulam, straightens his hat with a little cough and gives Feferi the side-eye. “Yes, I’d like to know that as well. We don’t, uh, get many newcomers down here.”

You nod and hop down to the main platform-thing in the cavern just as Sollux finishes swearing under his breath. “I climbed down the cliff- me and my family recently moved into the house near the coast—”

Ugulam’s eyes light up. “Oh, Lindsey and Gwen’s house! That makes sense. Are you, uh, settling in alright? It’s a heck of an atmosphere to get accustomed to—”

“As much as I _adore_ the small talk,” You interrupt, “I would like to know- Feferi, hello— what are you, exactly?”

Ugulam and Sollux exchange a look that you can’t quite decipher and say in unison, “Everyone knows there are creatures in the bay.”

“I did not in fact know there were creatures in the bay.”

“Well that’th beacauthe you’re new here. The retht of uth have familieth that have lived here for generatioth, we all know the stories—”

Ugulam cuts in with a grin, “And some of us have had the pleasure of meeting the creatures like lovely Feferi here—”

Who has snuck up on you somehow, despite her size, and is now inspecting your skirt with confusion and delight. She makes some indecipherable clicking noises in Ugulam’s direction, who makes some right back. Those eyes pull the hesitance right out of you, and it takes a moment to realize it’s emotion magic and not just you being a disaster lesbian. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. She’s very pretty.

“We don’t get many girls down here since Vriska was Vriska and it got hard for Terezi to go on the cliff and Nepeta doesn’t care much about what she looks like but _wow_ you’re pretty! I love your… Sollux, what’s the word for the mouth thing?” She rambles, turning to him.

“Lipstick?”

“ _Yeah!_ Lipstick! Vriska wore it once or twice and it was really nice but your color is so weird! I love it!” Feferi says, wrapping you up in her tail and effectively knocking you over. Not that you’re complaining, of course, but still. The boys look amused, and you have a suspicion this is either just what she is like or that, perhaps, you are being hazed.

“Thank you. I do believe they make waterproof variants.”

Her expression is that of a child promised an outing. “Ooh! Could you bring some, please?”

“I suppose,” You respond, shooting a look to the other two humans in the room. “Say, do gatherings in dark with creatures that don’t typically exist in a human understanding happen often?”

Sollux rolls his eyes and responds, “Often enough that I had to tell my dad I gained a newfound appreciation for bouldering and to have him do a day’th reathearch on the health benefitth.”

You offer a look of sympathy and Ugulam pats him on the back with a little laugh. “So, mystery newcomer, do you happen to have a name? We got acquainted without one.”

“Oh, how unbecoming of me to introduce myself in such a hushed manner. Rose Lalonde, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Ugulam Relahs, and likewise. Most people call me Lam. You can call him Solluxander, he hates it—”

“You witchy bathtard, I’m going to remove your handth and feed them to the nearetht hungry ththhhark.”

You perk up a bit at the mention of witchery, causing Feferi’s curious hands to fumble where they were examining one of your bracelets. “Are you a witch?”

“Oh- well, technically I’m a bit more of— well, I’m— it’s— It’s complicated. I do work with majicks and things of the sort in a technical capacity, but the ‘witchery’ is more just botanical sciences and the ‘magic’ is more warlocky in nature but of course who— I’m rambling. Apologies.”

Your heart _sings_ , your soul attuned in an instant of true joy at the unreal coincidence of meeting another novice magic user in such a strange place. Instead of relating immediately this elation, you… test something— and not unlike a weed stretches weak roots tentatively toward openings in a stone wall you reach outwards with your (invisible to most) own bitter magic and see if he’ll be able to notice.

Ugulam takes a moment. Feferi and Sollux, however, sit up in attention and look at you. On her face is recognition and excitement; On his, there is nothing but confusion and mild distress. You pull the tendril back quickly and seemingly relieve a bit of it. Something to investigate in future, perhaps. You have so much to write down.

“Don’t feel the need to apologize- I dabble in the art of magic, especially the darker form, myself. It’s quite a relief to meet someone who’s able to share the sent—”

“ _No way—”_

Feferi cuts in, seemingly done examining you for who knows what. “Yes way! She’s magic! I can absobubblutely eel it inside of her- It’s not fun magic like Aradia’s or Kanaya’s, but it’s there!”

There’s a pause, and when you look back on the interaction late when you sneak back into your house to Dave fast asleep, that’s when the three became a four. Then Ugulam says, stars in his eyes, “Tell me _everything._ ”

Your name is ROSE LALONDE and the night is humid and heavy. You’ve learned many things that leave your mind a’racin and don’t leave any room for sleep to weave its sneaky web.

You learned about Sollux, who saw things and heard things and was split in every term of the word and you learned but weren’t told that he’s head over heel for not just one but two mermaids in the bay. You learned Ugulam runs a shop in town and has since the original owner left, but does not own it. He’s a little salty.

You’ve learned Terezi is blind but intuitive and is someone you can more or less trust. You’ve learned Vriska is magnetic and this is a _very_ bad thing. You make a mental note to warn Dirk. The school mascot is the snails, which is the dumbest thing known to man.

Feferi is good storyteller, and weaves nets of massive creatures stirring in the latent hope magic littered _everywhere_ from times of legend— the town is picturesque for reasons unexplained and mystical and will remain that way.

You’ve learned you have friends in some of the Creatures, and enemies in others.

But perhaps most importantly, you have friends in town, and they have people they think you’d like to meet, and the thought of a social network built on hope magic is so appealing it burns away the oily shadow of the fact that there are creatures in the bay and they are the reason your mother is here. For now, though, it’s enough.


End file.
